


Like the verbal equivalent of a dick pic

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Drunk Texting, First Kiss, Intentionally Bad Spelling & Grammar, M/M, SV Winter Exchange 2017, So do we think Jared tastes of autumn or spring?, Well I hope the only bad spelling and grammar is intentional anyway, Why is there even an intentional bad spelling and grammar tag anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: In which Richard Hendricks is a horny drunk-texter, and Jared's gonna have to make some changes to the workplace sexual harassment policy.





	Like the verbal equivalent of a dick pic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emef/gifts).



> This fic was for the lovely @emef as part of the SV Winter Exchange. I tried to write an epistolary romance - one day I'll stick the landing.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:23 a.m.]

jAred

[Jared Dunn: 02:24 a.m.]

Hello Richard. Can I help you?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:30 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:32 a.m.]

Richard, are you all right?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:33 a.m.]

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

hI

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

yOu uP

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

Bar

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:36 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:37 a.m.]

Richard, are you all right?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:37 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

Richard, where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

wasted

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

wIsh you were HERE

[Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

Where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

Come

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

Here

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:39 a.m.]

Where are you?

[Jared Dunn: 02:39 a.m.]

I’ll come to you. Where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:40 a.m.]

Come GEt me

[Richard Hendricks: 02:40 a.m.]

(Sent location)

[Jared Dunn: 02:41 a.m.]

Don’t go anywhere.

[Jared Dunn: 02:41 a.m.]

I’ve called a Lyft.

[Jared Dunn: 02:42 a.m.]

I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:43 a.m.]

cOme heRe

[Jared Dunn: 02:43 a.m.]

On my way.

[Jared Dunn: 02:43 a.m.]

Have some water.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:44 a.m.]

(beer emoji)

(Martini glass emoji)

(champagne bottle emoji)

(eggplant emoji)

[Jared Dunn: 02:45 a.m.]

(smiley emoji)

[Jared Dunn: 02:45 a.m.]

I’m in the Lyft now.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:45 a.m.]

(eggplant emoji)

[Richard Hendricks: 02:46 a.m.]

thaNks

[Jared Dunn: 02:46 a.m.]

My pleasure.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:47 a.m.]

take me hOME

[Jared Dunn: 02:48 a.m.]

I will

[Jared Dunn: 02:48 a.m.]

Sit tight, Captain.

[Jared Dunn: 02:49 a.m.]

I’ll be there soon.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:53 a.m.]

Youre so good

[Richard Hendricks: 02:53 a.m.]

So fkng good

[Richard Hendricks: 02:54 a.m.]

I thiNK aBout you sometimes and

[Richard Hendricks: 02:55 a.m.]

Your eyes your hANds yuor voice and I want to bend yoU OVER SOMETHNIG sometisme

[Richard Hendricks: 02:55 a.m.]

Or you can bend me over whatevr

[Richard Hendricks: 02:56 a.m.]

fUCk I want to lick you

[Richard Hendricks: 02:56 a.m.]

What do yuO taste like

[Richard Hendricks: 02:57 a.m.]

Are you swEeT I bet yuo are

[Richard Hendricks: 02:57 a.m.]

do you taste of autumn

[Richard Hendricks: 02:58 a.m.]

What dO you look like when you cOMe

And then there’s a soft hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard turns and blinks owlishly as his vision refocuses and Jared’s concerned face swims into view.

‘Richard?’

‘Jaaaaarrrreeeeeed’, says Richard. He’s feeling _fine_. ‘This guy – this gucking fuy – this fucking guy is my CFO! My – my – this guy fucks, he’s’ Richard hiccups, he only just now thought of this, this is so fucking good, ‘my Chief Fucking Officer!’

Jared smiles at Richard and calls over the bartender. Asks for a glass of water. Makes Richard drink it. Richard says ‘I can – anything for you, Jar’d’, tries to drink sensually and slops half the water over his shirt. Dabs at himself giggling while Jared calls for the bill and tries to get Richard to drink some more water. Richard says ‘I’ll drink ALL the water’ and chugs from the glass. He drinks too fast and some spills out his mouth, but Jared’s smiling warmly and saying ‘good’ as he pays the bill.

Jared insists on taking Richard home. Richard’s delighted to have him, especially when they have to make an emergency stop for Richard to heave his guts out by the side of the road, with Jared rubbing soothing circles along his back and murmuring something kind and supportive.

* * *

 

The next morning, Richard wakes up feeling like he’s died.

Correction: _wishing_ that he’d died.

It feels like someone’s hollowed out his skull and replaced it with a dental cavity. And then stuck him in a wind tunnel at a fucking Slipknot concert. Any movement – any breath of air – has him whimpering pitifully.

He feels green. Like, all over. And too feeble to even attempt nausea.

His eyes drag themselves open. He swears he can feel his eyelids scraping against his cornea.

The movement exhausts him so much that he lies in bed panting.

Never again. He is never. Drinking. Again. It’s a miracle he even got home last night, which – how _did_ he get home?

Oh – oh yeah. Jared. Jared brought him home. Well, at least he’d kept his wits about him that much. It was – smart – to get in touch with Jared. Jared would just – snap into action and, like, do what needed to be done, and, and, and he wouldn’t give Richard shit, or get Richard to give him a Board seat, which he has already anyway, but you know.

Jared’s good.

Jared’s so fucking good.

Wait.

Why are those words so horribly, horribly familiar?

Wait.

_Wait._

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

Oh no no no no NO no no.

Oh fffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Richard’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

He winches himself up and registers faintly that sheer panic has overwhelmed the hangover. He crawls to the foot of his bunk bed and sees his cell on his desk, laid out precisely perpendicular to the edge.

Jared’s doing.

Oh God, Jared’s doing.

He climbs down the ladder with shaking legs and makes his way to his desk. Wipes his sweaty palms down the side of his jeans and gingerly picks up the cell.

It’s – okay, maybe this won’t be so –

Richard takes a deep breath. Flicks to his messages.

Oh.

Oh, it’s worse.

Oh, it’s _so much worse_.

It’s a fucking – _cornucopia_ – of creepy buried desires and feelings vomited onto the screen. And fucking drunk-spelled just enough to make him look illiterate, but not enough to confuse the unmistakeable, sexual-harassment-lawsuit-in-every-syllable intent.

It’s like the fucking…verbal equivalent of a dick pic with a grubby thumbnail in shot. Like, what even.

Richard drops the phone. And okay, he thinks he has the energy to throw up. So that’s….progress?

Richard stumbles out to the bathroom. And of course, because this is his life, he runs _immediately_ into Jared.

Who is standing just outside Richard’s room with a tray. On which lies a sandwich, a cup of coffee and a pill.

Because Jared can’t, like, let Richard wallow in guilt and terror and self-loathing in peace. Or even wait till Richard’s got a little bit of his shit together. Enough to have upchucked, had a shower, crawled like a nanometer towards normal, changed into clean clothes, had something to eat that Richard thought to get for himself without Jared fucking anticipating his needs.

Jared doesn’t even have the decency to look, like, torn-up, or untidy, or even a little bit gross. I mean, yeah, he looks a little underslept – Richard dragged him out of bed and across town in the middle of the night, after all – but the dark circles only make his eyes look _even bluer_ , like Jared’s giant Disney Princess eyes needed the help there.

Nooooo, Jared’s gotta, like, be _aggressively_ kind and thoughtful and put-together and fucking _unnecessarily perfect_ on this day of all days, when Richard’s feeling like something the Swamp Thing shat out after a cheese nightmare and fucking five days of indigestion.

And sent Jared graphic, misspelled, tragic, titanically inappropriate messages, let’s not forget that little detail.

After Jared rescued him from a bar.

Goddammit.

 _Goddammit_.

He smells nice, too. Jared. Jared smells nice. Like he always smells nice but right now it seems _cruel_ that he smells so crisp and clean and fresh and comforting and, and, and, and fucking _lovely_.

He probably _does_ taste of autumn.

 _Fuck_.

And God, it’s not like Richard ever thought he’d get to find out for himself, he’s not _that_ optimistic, but Richard’s been, like, dealing as best he can with Jared’s hands and his wrists and his eyes and his soft voice and his naval metaphors and his fanatical but still frustratingly platonic devotion to Richard that makes Richard feel like a special kind of creep for the hot dark thoughts that come to him at night, the thoughts where one of those giant hands has wrapped around Richard’s neck and the other one’s around his cock, or where Jared’s staring at Richard over his shoulder with those huge blue eyes and moaning Richard’s name while Richard does something that even his imagination fritzes at shaping, or……

He’s been dealing with it. He has.

He _has_.

Well, he hasn’t jumped Jared or thrown up on him. Or, y’know, both. So. You know. Dealing with it.

But now Richard’s

  1. Gotten wasted at a bar
  2. And made his CFO – made _Jared_ – come out in the middle of the fucking night to get him
  3. And sent him a billion texts outlining all his pathetic, stupid, ill-conceived, hung-up longings
  4. Texts which included the phrases ‘bend you over’ and ‘lick you’



‘Richard?’ Jared’s frowning in concern at Richard. Who has presumably been gawping at Jared like a murderer confronted by, like, the ghost of his latest victim.

Which he basically is.

A victim who has brought his murderer sandwiches because that’s just the kind of guy he is, so why _not_ remind the murderer of just how entirely too good for, like, this entire sinful earth he is in general, and for the murderer in particular?

‘Richard, do you think you could try to eat something?’

Ah what the hell, why not. He’s gotta have something to throw up before, after or during the inevitable conversation where Jared gently reminds him of Pied Piper’s sexual harassment in the workplace policy.

Assuming Jared still wants to stay with Pied Piper.

Oh God.

What if –

Oh _fuck_.

Like, it’s not – he wouldn’t blame Jared. But ohshitohshitoh _shit_.

‘Don’t leave’, he says on a rush, fist clenching around the sandwich – PBJ, presumably Jared knows that’s all Richard can handle right now.

Jared’s eyes widen. ‘Richard? Why would I – Richard, what’s wrong?’

‘I’m sorry’, says Richard, ‘I – fuck, I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have made you – woken you, made you – come to get me, and then – I shouldn’t – oh God, fuck, the texts, Jared, you have to know, I’m so - ’

‘Oh’, says Jared. And he goes pink. Richard thinks he looks unfairly pretty that way. ‘Yes. I was - ’ he coughs delicately, ‘I was planning to schedule a one-on-one with you about that. But – Richard, I think you should – why don’t you get some food inside you, and some water, and some coffee, and then we can talk?’

Richard sighs. It’s probably just postponing the inevitable, but what the hell.

He eats the sandwich. Keeps it down, even. He drinks coffee. He drinks water. Has a shower. Changes into a button-down and a sweater that he realises kinda-sorta matches Jared’s? Wonders whether to change. Doesn’t. Wonders why he chose that colour. Decides he’s not gonna think about it.

Accepts Jared’s calendar invitation for a ‘catch-up’. Tries not to hit his head on the table when he sees that Jared’s linked to the employee handbook with particular reference to the guidelines on creating a hostile workplace environment.

I know, Jared. I _know_.

Manages to get stuck far enough into debugging that he actually, sincerely jumps out of his skin when there’s a soft touch on his shoulder and Jared murmurs ‘Richard, our scheduled discussion.’

Richard blinks, and Jared immediately offers to reschedule if he’s caught Richard in the zone.

Richard contemplates taking him up on the offer, and then thinks better of it. Rip off the Band-Aid and all that.

‘No’, he says, and jerks his head to his bedroom. ‘Let’s – we’ll do it now.’

They head off to the room and shut the door behind them. Jared takes a seat opposite Richard, and smiles. And it is so obviously his HR smile, his establish-a-non-threatening-environment-prior-to-engaging-in-a-difficult-conversation-with-a-difficult-colleague smile, that Richard can feel his PBJ crawl up his throat.

‘Richard, how are you feeling?’

Richard scrubs his hands over his face. ‘Look. Jared. Can we – please can we just – get this over with?’

Jared purses his lips. ‘Richard, I need you to take this seriously. I’d like you to respect the process, please, we need to establish a protocol for future occurrences so that - ’

‘There won’t _be_ future occurrences’, says Richard, desperately, ‘please, I, Jared, I’m sorry, all right, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I - ’

‘Well’, says Jared, ‘let’s find out what happened. Recall the words of George Santayana, Richard. ‘Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’’

He nods earnestly at Richard, all _help me help you_. And goddammit, goddammit, _goddammit_.

Richard sighs. ‘I met old friends from Stanford. I got drunk. I got very very drunk.’

Jared nods. ‘Well, you texted me to come and get you instead of trying to drive while intoxicated. Which was very responsible of you, Richard, and I think you should give yourself credit for that. I’m also - ’ and the colour rises in his cheeks, ‘oh, Richard, I’m so _honoured_ that you selected me to come for you. That you’d choose to trust me this way – to lay your sword on my shoulder and say ‘I am wounded in battle, but my ensign, my Lancelot, my trusted standard-bearer is come to bear me away’, I - ’ and his hand splays out over his chest. His eyes glisten.

Richard swallows. It – okay, so – I mean, trust Jared to be grateful for what anyone else would treat correctly as an incredible fucking imposition, but, like, if he’s – all dewy-eyed about being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night, then like has he…forgotten…..about the gross text messages, or…?

‘It – sure, Jared.’

Sure _what_? Like Richard _agrees_ that _he_ did _Jared_ a fucking favour? Fucking…throw yourself into traffic, Richard Hendricks.

Jared sits up straight, sniffs and composes himself. ‘I’m sorry, Richard, I – I didn’t mean to – intrude my own preoccupations, it was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘No’, says Richard, ‘no, it – no.’

‘Well’, says Jared, his cheeks still delicately pink, _fuck_ , ‘I would – thank you, Richard, it meant – it _means_ – a lot to me.’

Richard can’t think of what to do or say, so he nods.

Jared squares his thin shoulders and looks grave. And here it comes. ‘Richard, there is one thing I would like to ensure does not happen again.’

Richard is nodding. Nodding and cringing.

‘The other text messages, Richard. The – explicit ones.’

Richard’s nodding picks up speed, yes, I know, Jared, no need to spin this out, can we just…

‘I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to look at the employee handbook excerpt I sent you…’

Richard _hasn’t_ looked. He opened the attachment and wanted to die. Shut it. Opened it again. Wanted to die in a whole different way. Shut it again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

He shakes his head. Jared gives him a slightly reproving look – Richard winces – and goes on.

‘Well, Richard, we have – specific policies – preventing any speech or action or communication that can make your colleagues uncomfortable. Now, I understand that we weren’t in a workplace environment, and that I wasn’t meant to see those messages, and those are mitigating circumstances, but we should have a discussion about managing consumption of…alcohol, or…psychotropic substances? To make sure that it doesn’t happen again?’

Richard’s nodding so violently his head feels like it’ll fall off. Which. Might not be such a bad thing? But maybe, just maybe, this nightmarish conversation is coming to an end and somehow Jared seems to be taking it in stride that Richard came on to him and look at no point did Richard ever think that Jared was going to throw himself into Richard’s arms and like look shyly at him and whisper ‘Me too’ and use Richard’s bedroom to, to, to, to, for Richard to, or for Jared to, or like whisper in Richard’s ear ‘what do _you_ taste of, Richard?’ and okay so maybe Richard _was_ hoping just a little because like where would we be without hope and maybe Richard’s mildly disappointed/completely crushed that Jared’s just fucking briskly swatting aside Richard’s heartfelt and yes problematically harass-y declarations but mostly it looks like Jared’s not going to quit and he doesn’t hate Richard forever so that has to be a win.

Jared smiles at Richard, and there’s a little…strain?....in the smile. ‘But I’m – happy for you, Richard. Who’s the lucky lady?’

‘….Who’s _what_ lucky lady?’

Jared blinks. ‘The messages, Richard. They were…’ and Jared’s pink again, ‘I’m sure it’s very…oh, I’m sure she’s exquisite, Richard, I’m very happy for you.’

Richard is staring at Jared, so hard he can feel his headache start up again. ‘…….What?’

Jared blushes deeper. ‘Of course, if you’re not comfortable discussing it, I completely understand, it was…impertinent…of me, but you see, Richard, this is the difficulty with bifurcating personal and professional relationships, this is why we need a policy in place to prevent this sort of…’

Richard lets Jared’s words wash over him.

Okay. O-kaaayyyy.

So. Jared thinks the texts were meant for someone else.

That does explain why he’s so chilled out about them. Relatively.

Okay.

Okay!

Okay, this is the out Richard wanted!

Richard lets out a noisy exhale of sheer relief. Jared looks at him, surprised.

Richard’s beaming at Jared like a loon. Fucking….heteronormativity, and Jared’s fucking ridiculous self-effacing modesty, to the rescue.

God _damn_.

Jared smiles back at Richard, uncertainly, and Richard’s stomach and heart do something very uncomfortable.

‘Richard? I – of course it doesn’t matter, since the recipient was only me, but -’

‘I trust you’, Richard blurts out. ‘I – with everything. That’s probably why I. I’m sorry, Jared, but that’s what happens when. People trust you. You. You find out. Things. That maybe you don’t wanna – I’m sorry.’

And Jared’s face is doing this thing, this terrifying wonderful thing. His eyes are, they’re bluer and bigger with every passing second, and he’s smiling like he’s found a whole new planet or something, and Richard can feel himself just….racing forward towards that smile, just with like empty pockets and a bucket, just trying to hold on to as much of it as he can before it vanishes, he can’t help it, he can’t –

‘The texts were meant for you.’

Welp. There it is.

Richard can’t even – he’s not gonna blame himself. He held it together as long as he could, and that _smile_ , fuck, if the CIA knew about that smile he’d never see Jared again, they’d just keep him in like a cage like Weapon Fucking X and only let him out to unleash him on like terror suspects until they cracked and told him everything, everything, Jared probably collects like five declarations of undying love and twenty secrets on his way from his condo to his car, he probably thinks that’s how people say ‘Good morning’.

Jared’s staring at Richard. The smile’s vanished. ‘Richard?’

Richard swallows. Fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater. Is about to gnaw at his fingernails when Jared’s giant hand reaches out to gently capture his.

Oh _God_.

‘Richard?’ Jared’s looking earnestly at Richard. ‘What did you mean?’

Richard sighs. Manages to make eye contact for one entire second before his gaze falls. ‘The messages were – they were for you.’

When Richard risks a look up, he can see Jared’s lowered his own eyes. When he speaks, his voice is carefully calm. The voice he uses when he doesn’t want Richard to freak the fuck out. ‘Richard? I think we may need to have a different kind of discussion.’

Richard nods, miserably.

Jared takes in a breath. ‘Okay, we first need to establish – Richard, what was the nature of the reaction you were hoping for?’

What was Richard hoping for?

What was Richard _hoping_ for?

Oh, hell no.

No no no no no no NO.

‘It – Jared, how can that – I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s – fucking – I’m really sorry, it was… seriously fucking not okay, and I’m really sorry, and it was my fault, and – ’

‘I meant’, continues Jared, pinkly but firmly, ‘was this horsing around, or a – booty call, with - ’

‘I like you’, says Richard, because God help him he wants Jared desperately but nobody – _nobody_ \- wants to hear Jared Dunn say things like ‘booty call’. ‘I like you – fuck – I like you _so fucking much_ , you’re so, with your, your eyes, and your hands, and your hair, and you’re so good so fucking good at fucking everything and you, you fix things, and you, you’re so fucking stupidly perfect and like I don’t even know why you’re still here but don’t leave Jared please I can, I can manage this, you’ll never hear about it again, I promise, Jared, I-’

Richard stops because Jared’s hand on his has tightened. He leans in to Richard and kisses him.

Gently.

The lightest, sweetest kiss, just….gracing Richard’s mouth. Just…showing him how those soft, full lips might feel.

A tease, really.

So Richard’s also not gonna blame himself for _attacking_ Jared when he pulls away.

Or for scrambling onto Jared’s lap and nearly knocking them both to the floor.

Or for fisting his hands into Jared’s sweet-smelling hair.

Or for biting at that lush bottom lip.

Anyway, Richard’s vindicated when Jared takes control of the kiss, deepening it, spearing his fingers through Richard’s hair, chasing every atom of breath Richard has.

When they part, winded and staring at each other, Richard knows he’s grinning and thinks he’ll probably never stop. And Jared’s eyes are shining, so impossibly bright.

‘How long?’ breathes Jared, and Richard has to think for a moment before he realises what Jared means and shrugs helplessly.

‘I don’t – those messages? I’ve had…something like them….in my drafts folder for….I mean, they were nicer, like…not like….and they were like spelled properly and, and I was like asking you out or whatever and – they weren’t gross like those ones but….yeah.  Months. Like – god, Jared, a year? At least? Longer, I think.’ He looks at Jared. ‘You?’

Jared laughs a little. ‘Oh, Richard. Always. The instant you walked away from Gavin, I knew.’

Richard’s brain short-circuits. ‘We could’ve been – we could’ve – for _a year_?’

A year’s worth of, of kissing, and, and looking, and touching and – oh God – _permission_ to touch, and and saying things, and – every day they could have – every _hour_ , every – oh, they have a _lot_ to make up. Starting now.

Jared licks his lips and Richard groans, leaning forward. Jared puts his hand over Richard’s mouth, gently. ‘Richard, I – Richard, we should have a discussion about … the implications for the sexual harassment policy and workplace conduct, it would be - ’

Richard licks Jared’s palm, a wet, hungry sweep, and relishes his friend’s shudder. ‘I know, Jared, I know.’

‘Richard – Richard, darling, I’m serious, we have to outline protocols for – mmph!’

‘I know’, says Richard, against Jared’s mouth, ‘I do, I do, Jared, I’m listening, just - ’

‘We’ll need to’, gasps Jared, wrenching his mouth away from Richard’s, ‘ensure that we have clauses in place protecting –   _oh_ – the company, and – and us – from – oh Richard, darling, _yes_ , like that – abuses, we - ’

‘Anything’, says Richard, ‘anything.’ He pulls off Jared’s long throat, bared just so for him. ‘You don’t – Jared, you don’t taste of autumn.’

Jared angles his head in unquestionable invitation for Richard to nibble and suck beneath his ear. ‘N- no?’

‘No’, says Richard, giddy with delight. ‘You – Jared, you taste of _spring_.’

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr handle is itsevidentvery, if you'd like to come yell with me there.


End file.
